


Glinda's Musings

by lrhaboggle



Category: Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Analysis, Comfort, Gelphie, Glinda appreciation, Glinda misses Elphaba, Glinda thinks, Musical, Musing, One Shot, Short, because it comes from the fact that she struggles, because she's so much stronger and braver than we remember, flying monkey appreciation, glinda and chistery are bros, i speak, mini sequel, post-WICKED, she has a lot of very real fears and issues she deals with, speak, which i love about her character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrhaboggle/pseuds/lrhaboggle
Summary: This is a collection of unrelated one-shots that feature the things Glinda thinks about right after Elphaba dies and she takes the throne (or right before No One Mourns the Wicked). These are just philosophical analyses of the story its themes and the two leading ladies, though a few of them are more story-oriented.





	1. I Speak

Glinda stood upon her balcony, looking over Oz with a world-weary expression. War was rising, she could feel it. Despite having just disposed of Oz's tyrant, political tension had still peaked. It wouldn't be long now before that tension would finally explode into the long-awaited war where factions from every corner of Oz would try and take control. This wasn't a question of "if". It was a question of "when". And of course, poor, stupid little Glinda was caught right in the crossfire... Again.

Glinda wanted so badly to run and hide, to flee in terror from the terror and never look or come back ever again, but she couldn't just leave the innocent Ozians. Not like the way she left Elphaba... Memories of the snarky yet compassionate green witch flooded Glinda's mind and guilt came back anew, just as painful now as any other time in her miserable existence. The tears slipped down her pale, perfect, painted cheeks.

"Oh Elphie, I miss you so much!" Glinda wept as she gazed longingly to the western sky. "I wish you were still here, I need you..." the young woman continued to cry, occasionally calling out her fallen friend's name, as though it would be enough to bring her back to life.

Suddenly, then, someone knocked at Glinda's door. The young queen felt a mix of fear and anger surge through her heart as the knocking continued. She quickly dried her tears and forced herself to smile winningly, hoping that no one had heard her mourning the "wicked" witch.

"Come in!" she sing-songed, clearing her throat carefully to rid herself of her sobs. She watched the door open slowly, expecting for some foolish little noble to poke his head in and say that there was yet another Ozian wishing to talk to her. She couldn't have been more wrong. On the contrary, it was no noble at all! It was Elphaba's head flying monkey: Chistery.

He'd snuck back into the Emerald City Palace with Glinda after she took over the country. He wasn't planning on a permanent residence in the palace, coming back only to help Glinda cope with Elphaba's death, but he still did have a castle room to himself. He and Glinda had both told the lie that Elphaba had enslaved the monkeys with a magic hat and now that she was dead, he was free and looking to become something of a diplomat between the west and the Emerald City. Of course, it wasn't true at all, but it gave Chistery an alibi and Glinda was too glad to have at least one companion who understood how painful Elphaba's death had been to care.

Now, as he entered Glinda's master bedroom, Glinda couldn't help but smile warmly down at him. He might have only been a simple, stupid, smelly little chimp, but he knew that Elphaba and Glinda loved each other, and he wanted to help.

"Good evening, Chistery," Glinda spoke with genuine gratitude as he waddled over to her, wings flapping a bit, though he was not flying.

"You...speak..." he said slowly. Glinda had been teaching him to speak ever since she first brought him back to the Emerald City Palace and although he was improving, he still had an awfully long way to go...

"You... speak..." he repeated, waving a paw towards the window Glinda had been surveying her new kingdom through.

Glinda sighed miserably as his words sunk in. Oh, right, she had to give a "victory" speech on the "Wicked" Witch's death. The mere idea made her sick to her stomach, but she had to do it because she had to be the queen the Ozians needed.

"You...speak..." Chistery said for a third time, slowly but more clearly than the other two times.

"Yes, I know. I'm going now," Glinda said, a bit harsher than intended. She couldn't help it though. She was under too much pressure and had been for far too long. Chistery's stuttering was annoying right now, it was not something she needed to hear. But Chistery was just as stubborn as his old mistress had been. His wrinkled face became even more wrinkled as he drew himself up and spoke again.

"You speak!" he insisted, eyes cold, hard and proud. Glinda continued to stare at him in annoyance until, all at once, it clicked.

Suddenly, Glinda knew exactly what Chistery meant. Chistery wasn't just telling her to speak to the crowd. He was telling her to speak of Elphaba and the Animals, even if her words were indirect. He was telling Glinda to keep speaking and never be silenced again. He was telling her to use her Oz-given voice to change the world for good, and not to sing false praises to a man controlling her every action. He was telling her to use her newfound power to keep Elphaba's story and cause alive. Even if she could never say Elphaba's name again, she could still keep Elphaba's spirit alive by continuing to spread her creed for freedom and equality. Chistery was telling Glinda to use her power to help the powerless, to use her voice to speak for the voiceless. He was telling her to speak up and speak out, for all of Oz, because she had the power now.

She had the power now. That notion hit Glinda like a falling house and suddenly, for the first time since Elphaba's death, she began to smile. She began to really smile. Hope was restored to her. She knew the road ahead was going to be long and hard, full of all kinds of snares and obstacles, but this one small thought that she did finally have her own voice was such a wonderful and empowering feeling that she almost felt excited now. This was not going to be an easy task, but at least she had her own voice now, right? She could choose the word and stories now, right? She could truly start to be her own person and make a real difference now, right? Right!

Glinda turned to Chistery with a knowing smile. Chistery hooted happily and waddled closer to Glinda. She patted his wrinkled head.

"Yes Chistery. I speak. I speak for the Animals, for Oz, for freedom and equality, and for my dear, beloved Elphie," Glinda promised. She turned back to the window, hand slowly leaving Chistery's lumpy head. "Thank you, Elphie," Glinda whispered to the western sky. Chistery gummed happily in agreement and nodded, head also tilted up to survey the starry western sky. Then, slowly, he and Glinda parted from their embrace and Glinda heaved a huge sigh. For once, though, this sigh wasn't a sight of despair, it was one of hope, excitement, and readiness. Chistery, seeing that his mistress' friend was starting to feel ready and happy again, left the room with one last happy hoot while Glinda headed to the Ozians below. She was going to tell to them now the untold story of the witches of Oz, and this time, she was going to get to tell it her way.

"Tonight, I speak, and I speak the truth!" she muttered as her people came into view. It was showtime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Minor rewrite of the ending because we all know Glinda is still pretty much forced to only say what her people want to hear. In this story, though, she finds her voice and, through that, finds her confidence and hope again. Also, I threw Chistery in here because I actually love the idea of him and her being each other's coping mechanism after Elphaba dies.


	2. The Hat

Glinda sat alone in her bedroom in the Emerald City Palace. She was prepping to give a "victory" speech on the "Wicked" Witch's death. During her preparations, Glinda wondered if she should wear her crown. Normally, that crown was Glinda's favorite accessory. Normally, she loved the shining, silver circle that was encrusted with blue and white diamonds. Normally she loved to feel its reassuring weight on her gold curls. It was a beautiful, shining symbol of her power and popularity. It was a comfort object, reassuring her of her own, strength, control and success. It reminded her that she was loved, by at least a few people. Tonight, however, it was a cheap hunk of ugly metal and glitter with stones twisted into it that stood as a cruel reminder of the selfish and empty path she chose. The crown was no longer beautiful but monstrous, a symbol of egotism and cruelty. It was a cheap reflection of her "successes" and tonight, she would've gladly flung it out the window

Glinda spent a few more minutes debating if she should wear the crown, just staring it at contemplatively, thoughts like a whirlwind in her head. At last, then she decided yes. After this mini-stare down with her crown, Glinda finally picked up the metal circlet and placed it, reluctantly but resignedly, upon her head. She didn't wear it out of vanity, however, but for the cameras. Oz wanted a queen, now she had to play the part. It was her job. Truly, though, she felt undeserving. Instead, she believed that there was somebody else out there more deserving of a crown.

"Oh Elphie," Glinda sighed sadly as she donned the crown. She turned away from her golden, jewel-inlaid vanity to take a look out her window and to the western sky. "I miss you so much," she murmured out. "I know you'd deserve this crown more than I ever could," she said, but then a wet laugh escaped her. "But I know you'd never wear it. Not this cheap bit of materialistic vanity. You're too selfless, too good, too righteous and proud. You'd never wear something like this..." tears began to fall from Glinda's blue eyes. The little blond dipped her head as the memory of the green witch continued to overtake her. "I miss you. So much. I know I must be brave, but I'm scared. Oh Elphie..."

Finally, out of shame and misery, Glinda turned away from the window facing west. As she turned away, her wet-eyed gaze caught on something hidden in a corner of her room. It was a frumpy black hat. It was Elphaba's hat. Glinda's heart leapt in her throat as she suddenly found herself on her knees, hugging the little black triangle to her chest. It had been hidden in the corner of her room, hidden from the public eye. So well had it been hidden, though, that Glinda nearly had forgotten it was there. Seeing it again, Glinda had collapsed upon it, hugging it to her chest and grieving over the memory of her fallen friend.

She looked down at the hat through tears. Her hat. The hat that was given in hatred but led to love. The hat that became the green witch's signature accessory. The hat that went from an ugly prank of discrimination to a beautiful symbol of pride and powerful, lasting friendships. The hat that Elphaba wore constantly, for Glinda, because of Glinda. The hat that stuck by Elphaba until death, when Glinda reclaimed it as a last memorial of Elphaba. The hat was a plain, black, pointed hat that was ugly but it fit its owner so well, it became as beautiful and unique as the wearer. This hat was Elphaba's own crown, a symbol of her personality and creeds.

Glinda swallowed at the realization of that last part of her meditation. The little blond dared to slip the hat upon her own head then, tossing her crown away and ignoring its clatter against the cold tile of her bedroom. She turned to her mirror and recoiled. Not because the hat was ugly, but because the wearer was. Maybe not externally, but definitely internally. She blushed as she tore the hat off and dropped it from her clutches, ashamed at herself for daring to try and wear it. She had no right.

"I know I don't deserve it," Glinda mumbled sadly. "I'm too selfish..." she shook her head and put the hat back down, retrieving her more boring and banal crown. That hat that had previously been worn by somebody more concerned with the welfare of others than herself. Glinda didn't deserve that symbol because all she'd ever looked after was her own skin... But maybe that didn't have to last, didn't have to change. Every crown-bearer would fall eventually. None of them could last forever. This meant they had to have someone to pass their crown on to. They needed an heir. Now maybe, Glinda could change tonight and become Elphaba's heir. She might finally be brave enough to deserve the honor. She would conjoin the two crowns, the silver one and the black one. She would wear them as one singular crown (metaphorically, of course! The hat and crown together would clash and look hideodious), balancing out the ideologies that they both represented. She would somehow be deserving of being the heir to both legacies and she would find a common focal point within them to draw them together...

In the end, Glinda didn't wear her crown to the speech after all, leaving it instead on her vanity beside Elphaba's hat. When next she saw them, she released a shaky breath. The painful speech was over, but it wasn't entirely celebratory. With Elphaba in mind, Glinda had carefully steered the ignorant Ozians to feel sympathy for the green witch and some of them got it. Throughout the whole speech, Glinda weaved Elphaba's life story into it and did see enlightenment flicker up on some of the Ozian's faces. Most of them remained firmly against Elphaba, but a few seemed to have a change of heart, and that was all Glinda could ask for.

With the speech over, Glinda went to bed. Right before turning off the light, however, Glinda took her crown and put it in a drawer. She then took Elphaba's hat and placed it by her bed. No longer would the hat be hidden in a corner. No longer would it be shamed, scorned, spat at or sneered at. Instead, Glinda would wear it proudly, telling anyone who asked the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, not yet, but just enough to start slowly raising public awareness. That was how all big political movements started, after all. Baby steps, little things, conversation starters and demonstrations to slowly but surely raise awareness. It would be a long, risky road, but it was one Glinda was finally ready to walk, the hat and all it stood for at her side and on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: More stupid philosophy. You know I love this musical too much when I post an analysis of a freaking hat. What can I say?


	3. Good and Wicked and Wicked and Good

Glinda hid up in her new master bedroom in the Ozian palace. The normal person would be delighted to call such a magnificent room their own, but all of its splendor was lost on Glinda who would've gladly traded every little last emerald here for one she left behind in the west: Elphaba Thropp, her very best friend in the whole wide world. This bedroom, like all of the other ones since Shiz when she and Elphaba shared a room, seemed so big, empty and cold, and Glinda despised this one just as much as she did all of the other ones she'd ever slept in, despite its outward opulence. Glinda could only sit there on her satin bed and cry, mourning that wonderful woman she so adored...

"No one mourns the wicked!" someone standing in the courtyard just below Glinda's window was sending out that stupid, horrible rallying cry again. Ever since Elphaba had been slain, the Emerald City had been in a tumultuous and happy uproar, celebrating the downfall of that "wicked" witch. Glinda heard the voice repeat that stupid little saying and she suddenly felt a very strong urge to hop right out of her bedroom window and down onto that courtyard below (despite the massive and most likely fatal distance between the two) and slap the fool before telling him to kindly shut his dirty rotten pie hole. But of course, not only was such a thing implausible, but it was also very unbefitting of a new queen of Oz. Glinda didn't want to force this country into losing another big political leader just yet.

"No one mourns the wicked!" now everyone was singing it and Glinda couldn't help but spit at her window.

"Yes, someone mourns the wicked! Me! I do!" she fumed, but then she couldn't help but go into philosophical mode again. That seemed to happen whenever she was in one of her more depressed states. She was claiming that she "mourned the wicked". On the surface level, this meant Elphaba, that green-skinned witch of the west. But Glinda had already established that she did not think that Elphaba was wicked. So was it incorrect to say that Glinda mourned the wicked if Elphaba was not wicked? Unless, of course, on a more subconscious level, she meant that she was mourning herself, because goodness knew Glinda could be very wicked indeed.

So perhaps Glinda could still say she mourned the wicked if she was referring to herself. Wicked thought she was, it was not hard to pity her, having lost some of her nearest and dearest friends all in short order only to be left behind in a castle full of corrupt and deceitful politicians with the task of repairing a very broken and miserable country all on her own. Oh yes, Glinda had every right to mourn herself, and her bitter fate. Or maybe she meant the Ozians down below who were singing so merrily about Elphaba's despise right now. What good person celebrated the death of another? Maybe it was them, those arrogant and ignorant fools, that were wicked. In that case, the theory still held. Glinda knew she mourned them, only in a different way. She pitied their blindness that made them so full of fear and hatred. It was a mindset no one deserved to suffer, yet the entire world seemed to be poisoned by it anyway.

"Oz knows I do mourn them," Glinda sighed sadly, staring towards her window. The singing was still going on below. "Oh yes, someone can indeed mourn the wicked, for I do. I mourn myself, the Ozians below, and all that I have ever lost. I do indeed mourn the wicked."

"Goodness knows the wicked's lives are lonely!" someone else added a new line to the chorus and Glinda felt a sob shake her body as she began to wonder if the Ozians weren't singing about her after all. Goodness knew her life had been lonely. Even before Elphaba ever stepped into the picture, Glinda had been lonely. Though it seemed hard to believe, even during childhood, Glinda was quite lonely. That was because, as pretty and spoiled as she was, there was always a very inquisitive mind that lay past the golden curls. It was a mind no one else had or understood. For that, even in her "rich brat" days, she was alone. No one ever truly understood her, though they pretended to just because she was rich. That was why she had come to like Elphaba so much. Elphaba was the only one to love Glinda for who she really was and she was the only other person to understand what went on inside of her mind. Now Elphaba was gone and Glinda was alone with her thoughts again, a terrifying place to be.

"Goodness knows, the wicked cry alone. It just shows when you're wicked, you're left only on your own..." the song continued and Glinda really couldn't help but wonder if fate itself hadn't crafted such a taunting piece just for her. This was worse than salt in the wound! But their song said that goodness knew that the wicked would die alone, and Glinda knew this, so was she good, by that measure? But if the wicked's lives were lonely and hers was lonely, did that make her wicked? And hadn't Elphaba's own life been full of loneliness? But Elphaba wasn't wicked! Maybe she was mean and surly, but she was never ever wicked. Not her, not Elphaba. And besides, Elphaba knew that the wicked would cry alone, so did that make her good? Could Elphaba, and Glinda, have been good and bad both at the same time?

As these nonsensical thoughts continued to swirl through Glinda's grief-filled mind, a new and more disturbing thought came to her. She was alone. That realization became a burning pain in her chest until she found herself shaking with sobs. Another painful thought struck her, that the wicked alone too. Well, Glinda was certainly alone in life now and, after the trauma she'd endured, she'd always sort of be that way. She would die alone. No Elphie to comfort her in possible final moments...

"Oh Elphie! Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go? Please come back! I miss you, I need you! I know I'm a selfish coward and this is my fault but please! I'm so lost! Especially without you! I'm sorry!" Glinda wailed, but nothing paid heed to her pain. "You mean, green thing! Sweet Oz, is this my punishment for being a dumb, heartless, cowardly traitor? To have all I love taken from me, leaving me here alone?"

A new thought dawned on her then.

"I'm being punished... Wickedness must be punished," she said as she remembered what the Ozians had said earlier. "Am I wicked? Then why am I called 'good' why do I strive to be good?" she paused. The lines between good and wicked and wicked and good were very blurry, to say the least. So was she good or wicked? "What about Elphaba? She was punished. Was she wicked? But how could somebody wicked be so kind? Maybe if she had been born normal... What am I saying? Elphaba was normal. It's our fault for not seeing it!" Glinda cried in frustration.

And then another new thought hit Glinda.

"Maybe that's it. Maybe that was Elphaba's goodness. To show the world goodness could come from anywhere. And maybe it's my turn now. To tell the Ozians that. To make them see the error of their ways and to see them. To see that goodness has no set expression..." Glinda trailed off and gazed to the west. Glinda smiled proudly then, and she quickly conjured up a travel bubble to take her to the Ozians below. Once there, she began to tell the untold story of the witches of Oz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I apologize for this almost feverish over-analysis, but after seeing a post that said that "No One Mourns the Wicked" could easily refer to Glinda and how no one really cries for her (audience included), I had to write this. If anything, just look at the scatter-brained and chaotic, nonsensical nature of the writing as a meta reflection of Glinda's current mental stability.


End file.
